


Born to Die

by Awakened_Angel



Series: Gendrya Week [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Sex, Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awakened_Angel/pseuds/Awakened_Angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My entries for Arya and Gendry week...I'm so late, I know, just give it a chance. I'll try to do everything. Story will be explained inside. Link to the story on my ff account:</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Frenzy

**Author's Note:**

> The first prompt is "FRENZY." This whole story will be written in a future AU where Arya and Gendry stayed to travel with the Brotherhood. The Hound never captured Arya and they didn't make it to Riverrun or the Twins before the Red Wedding happened. The story may or may not be told in chronological order.

_Chapter One:  
Frenzy_

There couldn't be a word for what he felt when they were together. It was indescribable. There were so many different things they could do.

When he was in control, he took his time. He was sweet and gently, loving and kind. He tried to be slow, to prove to her that he cared.

But it was so different when she took over, whether she was on top or not. She would claw at his back and tangle her fingers in his dark hair. She would wrap her legs around his waist and try to get him deeper, even though he was as deep as he could go.

He lay on the bed, looking up at her with his hands on her hips as he looked at her patiently. She had her eyes locked on his face as she sank down on top of him. His eyes shut on instinct and his head tilted back as she began to move. Faster and faster. He helped guide her, lifting her hips and slamming them back down. He started to pant and he began to shake as he tried to move along with her. Finally, he sat up so quickly that Arya let out a little scream, and he had to cover her mouth with his hand so they wouldn't wake everyone else up in the next room.

"Someone might hear," he whispered. He grabbed her hair and yanked her head back as he kissed her neck and thrust deeply into her. Arya let out moans and whimpers as she wrapped her legs around his waist, hugging him close to her as he moved inside her.

"Arya!" he cried out, despite his warnings.

Arya smiled and she leaned in close to his ear. "Someone might hear," she whispered as she kissed his lips.

When Gendry came, he could only hear her crying out his name as she went right along with him, and he thought, right before he fell back onto the bed in that inn and closed his eyes, he had never felt anything better.


	2. Abandon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is told before the first chapter, like I said, it wouldn't be in chronological order.

She knew it was too good to be true. She knew she couldn't have her mother, brother, and Gendry all together with her. He was going to leave her, just like everybody else. Her father had died, Lommy had died, Hot Pie had left them. Now Gendry was leaving her, too. She didn't have a pack anymore.

She didn't turn her head when he called her name. When he touched her shoulder. When he turned her to face him, she looked at the ground, trying to avoid those blue eyes that made her feel things she didn't understand, but she knew she didn't want to feel them.

"Please, understand."

"I understand. You're leaving. Just like everyone else. What happened to what you told me at Harrenhal that night? You said you would never leave me, never abandon me. And you lied. I guess it's true what they saw about bastard boys: hot-blooded and shit for honor."

It was the first time she'd sworn. And she wished she hadn't. The look he got in his eyes was damn near crazed, she thought he was going to strike her. But he only turned and walked away.

They didn't talk for a whole week.

* * *

News of the Red Wedding came three days after the Brotherhood had set off to deliver Arya to her family. They set up camp deep in the woods, and Arya sat by herself for the whole night ignoring any offers of food or drink, and made no indication she'd noticed when Anguy laid a threadbare cloak about her shoulders.

When Gendry sat next to her with a flask in his hand, her eyes flickered over to him, and he looked at her, too, and then she understood.

He knew what she needed, when the others didn't. She needed a friend, but she couldn't talk to anyone. She needed comfort, but not questions. She needed him. She knew she was forgiven, then, and she moved a little closer to him, and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. They didn't say anything until she stood up with the intention of going to sleep. He rose as well, and she didn't know what she was doing, but she stood on her tip toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He slept beside her that night, and she would have rather thought she was warmer because it wasn't as cold in these woods.


	3. Bound

They weren't married, but they were bound for life with one another. He was hers, and she was his, from the moment they'd moment. And that's how it would always be. And it didn't matter to her that he was a bastard, that he was lowborn, that he couldn't read, because she loved him. And she knew that now.

They lay together for the first time on the hard ground, under the protective blanket of the trees. They were a few yards from the rest of the Brotherhood, sleeping soundly, oblivious to them in their moment of passion.

Gendry took her gently her first time. It was slow, and he kissed away her pain as he broke through her maidenhead and tried to keep himself still as she adjusted. She didn't cry, she didn't make any sounds of pain, but it showed on her face, in the way she grimaced and the way her lips curled in discomfort.

The second time, he had drunk too much wine, and he had snuck into her room at the inn they had been spending the night in. Arya was shocked by his outward declarations of love for her, too dramatic and too poetic, and she'd teased him about it every moment she could.

By the fifth time, the Brotherhood already knew they were lovers and had not said anything yet. It took Anguy to stumble upon them during the seventh time, covered by a threadbare cloak behind a thick bush, as he came by to take a piss, to get it out in the open.

It didn't matter to Arya that they weren't married, and probably never would be. And it didn't matter to her if they had any kids (though she was fifteen by the time they'd made love together for the seventeenth time and had already bled a year past) because they'd be theirs.

Hers and her stupid, stubborn bull's.


	4. Haven

She was his personal haven. And it was complete irony.

People were terrified of her once they saw her skill with a blade, and when he told her she was the safest place he'd ever been, she gave him a look and asked if that was because he was so used to having his cock inside her by then that she was familiar to him. That same night, he took her roughly for the first time, just to spite her. He marked her as his own with bruises and sucking marks and bites. She told him later as he held her sweaty and tired body that she would have to be carried tomorrow. He laughed and it put her right to sleep.

He was comfortable enough with her to curse, and she was the same. She hit him constantly, though she had done that before they had became lovers. They fought, and she screamed and he pushed her right back, and the Brotherhood had to threaten to knock their heads together and make Gendry a eunuch (something that would have been bad for both of them, if they were being honest) if they didn't fuck off.

But he was safe with her, and she was safe with him. He wouldn't be alive if it weren't for her.

They were safe with each other, he decided one night as he collapsed beside her, panting heavily. He was covered in sweat, and she was already half asleep.


	5. Beauty

Gendry had a certain beauty to him.

Arya had noticed it for the first time when they had lain together the first night. His face, when he came, was like no other that she had ever seen. His eyes sparked, and they were so dark, a darker blue than she had seen them and then they screwed shut tightly. He rested his forehead against hers and let out a muffled cry when it was over. He definitely made up for her not climaxing that first time with his mouth fifteen minutes later.

The second time she'd noticed it was when he was sleeping. They had taken to sleeping under the same blanket again, and she had been looking up at the stars when he turned to face her. He looked so innocent in sleep, no hard edges or sarcastic smirk. Just Gendry.

She told him he was beautiful the first time she had gotten truly, without a doubt, pissed. She had convinced Anguy and Tom to give her a few more drinks than normal, and she had stumbled to Gendry in their shared room, and outright said "You're beautiful, d'you know that, bull?"

He had laughed at her, and kissed her, told her that she was the one that was beautiful, and let her fall asleep on his stomach. He teased her about that, and said that they were even after all of her jokes about his own drunken declarations on a night that now seemed so long ago.

Gendry told her she was beautiful whenever he could. Sometimes, he would just blurt it out, whether they were in private or sitting together at a fire warming their hands with the Brotherhood all around them. She would blush and hide her face with her hair, which was now just passing her breasts, and punch him, calling him a stupid bull. He'd kiss her, and they would excuse themselves from the fire, leading one of the men to make a joke about other ways to keep warm.

"Yes," she'd reply. "Warmer than you are on a night with the most talented whore in all of Westeros."


	6. Calm

**Anguy**

No one could keep the she-wolf calm like Gendry could. She was a wild, savage little thing (really, really little) but he would touch her on the shoulder, brush his fingers against hers, or put a hand on the small of her back, and she would settle the argument with an icy glare that said even though she let them have the last word, she had won.

And it was the same way with Gendry. He had a viscous temper, that one. These days, not much got him angry anymore. Not much, except if a man so much as glanced their way. It didn't matter to him if they were truly looking at Arya or counting how many people were at their table, he would get up with fury blazing through his ice-blue eyes and Arya would stand as well, take his hand, and lead him upstairs before he could do anything stupid. Truth be told, that worked with Arya, too, if a whore invited Gendry to a room herself. It was a win-win situation.

**Tom**

He wanted to make a song for the two of them.  _The She-Wolf and the Bastard Bull_. He could sing how she a wild wolf like herself had been tamed by the stubborn bull. It had taken a damn long time, but it had happened. She was calmer now, and less temperamental than before. She was still crude, still forward, and she used the fact that she was a woman to their advantage when they needed information (though that was done only when Gendry was taking care of their horses with Lem and Anguy and Jack), but he had helped her manage her rage. She had done the same for him. They were perfect together, to be honest.

Although, they channeled their rage in other ways, if the sounds they made in their room at inns they stayed, or the ones that traveled from behind the bushes late at night were anything to go by.

Maybe they hadn't tamed each other completely after all.


	7. Drug

She was his personal drug. Sometimes, he felt as if he couldn't get enough of her.

When they would stay at an inn, and they would get a room together, sometimes she'd go upstairs a little earlier than normal and he would come in to find her laying down on the bed, naked, too casually. She would be playing with her hair (now just brushing the middle of her waist) and her ankles would be crossed, causing her legs to be closed off to him.

Arya would be smiling coyly at him and ask him why he looked so stupid. He wouldn't talk for the rest of the night until he rolled off of her and told her she was dirty player.

She would kiss him and tell him she knew.

* * *

He was addictive.

Gendry had a look about him that made her want to drag him him deep into the forest and, quite simply, fuck him. He could be doing absolutely nothing, just sitting there with a cup of ale in his hand, and she would accuse him of trying to seduce her. After she attacked him, of course.

He laughed at her and kissed her on the forehead. "If I am, then you are doing a very bad job at punishing me for it."

Their night would normally end with her punching him in the arm.

One time, he asked her how he seduced her. When she said he knew exactly how, he laughed and told her he didn't.

"When you . . . you know. . . ."

"No, I don't."

"You're sitting there, and you-you're . . . y'know, drinking, and. . . ."

He raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Arya. You've found me out. I have spending my nights drinking all this time just so I could get you to lay with me again. We really haven't lately; I'm sure that most people do it more than three times every night."

Arya blushed and tired to punch him again, but he caught her wrist and rolled on top of her, his eyes glinting wickedly.

"It's not always three times a night," she whispered.

He kissed her nose. "Right, Arry. Sometimes we make it to four. I beg for m'lady's forgiveness."

Arya growled and kneed him in the stomach.

"You should really be more careful," he coughed roughly. "If your aim had been a little lower you could have damaged something very valuable to both of us. Not to mention one or two of the whores in the inns."

She knew he was teasing her, trying to get a rise out of her, she knew. . . . she grabbed his cock with both hands and he groaned, dropping his forehead against her neck.

Arya used one hand to bring his eyes back to hers. "This belongs to me, and no one else. It's mine."

She was seven and ten and she had him wrapped around her finger. And she loved it.

He grinned. "As m'lady commands."

"Don't call me that."


End file.
